A heart full of wildness

Today I walked through the fresh, vibrant forest, still glistening from yesterday's rain.

The calls of crossbills filled the larch trees, where sticky green cones swayed on the branches.

Foxgloves and catsears softened the edges between tree and path, interrupted only by freshly cut log piles oozing pine resin and filling the air with its delicious scent. Young bracken enthusiastically waved at me as I passed, while speckled wood butterflies ascended and descended between the trees before coming to rest on settled bracken fronds.

Diverting away from the tidy, flat inclosure tracks, the air felt more ancient and wise as I meandered among old pollarded trees. They stood as reminders that people have walked these paths and loved these woods for centuries, their trunks bearing king's marks and witches' marks carved with intention.

The landscape was so lush and verdant that it was easy to spot movement of any other colour. A goshawk silently manoeuvred through the ancient trees beneath their heavy canopies. Brooks gently trickled, where grey wagtails acted as keepers of the woodland waterways. Old beeches were peppered with fungi, and the wise old branches of oaks were adorned with drapes of lichen.

The landscape changed again to peat-filled bogs and heath. Bog St John's-wort rose from the puddled mire, and bog myrtle reached tall, inviting me to pick a sprig. I could not resist that zingy scent, so carried it with me for intermittent sniffing. A few sprigs of heather were beginning to flower, an advertisement for what is yet to come. As my gaze lowered to admire the delightful purple bells of the heather, lousewort, and orchids, I caught sight of a common lizard scurrying beneath a gorse bush.

The landscape was finally rich with nutrients, offering a wonderful spread for the ponies grazing the land, their ears twitching and tails swishing. Bees enjoyed a smorgasbord of pollen-filled hedges as my walk headed towards home, while the trees rang with the calls of demanding fledglings clothed in soft, bright feathers and wearing grumpy expressions.

My heart, meanwhile, was full of the joy of these wild landscapes layered with the new, the old, and the ancient - each whispering its lessons at every turn.